Hit The Floor
by Shanowa
Summary: One shot can change the fate of the galaxy and kill the immortal. A battle with devastating ending. One-shot. AU-ending. Clone-Wars era.


_**Disclaimer: I don't own a thing here as always. The Star-Wars Universe as well as the characters belong to George Lucas and the lyrics as well as the titel belong to Linkin Park and is a part of one of their songs.**_

_**That's the translation of Hit The Floor - now: Aufbrall in der Tiefe. It's a crap title I know. I'm not good at all with titles:(**_

**My deepest gratidues go to ObiBettina7 for betaing again for me:D Thanks very much!**

**Reviews and feedback would be loved and hold dear! **

**Enjoy! ;)**

* * *

_One minute you're on top_

_The next you're not, watch it drop_

_Making your heart stop_

_Just before you hit the floor_

_One minute you're on top_

_The next you're not, missed your shot_

_Making your heart stop_

_You think you've won_

_And then it's all gone_

**Linkin Park – Hit The Floor**

* * *

**Hit The Floor**

The rain was pouring relentlessly. Never ending streams of heavy water drops were falling down from the dark sky. The three circling suns that were illuminating the planet blue, white, and gleaming amber, causing an infinite day, were powerless against the thick, heavy clouds hovering in the lower layers of the atmosphere. Dawn had fallen over the ever bright planet now.

The beams which managed to tear their paths through the dense cloud cover were seldom, but solemnly held up their fight and illuminated the uncounted bodies in white armor lying spread out and motionless between incredibly high piles of sandy and silver scrap durasteel.

In between, black guns. Republican guns, as well as the weapons of the droid army of the Separatists. Destroyed or dropped. Or both. Slipped off dead fingers, hauled through the dusty air by the shock waves of explosions that had been devastating enough to leave solely the dead behind to remember. Expanded in a way that allows only guesses about the power of the weapon that had caused it.  
Their radius was only visible because of all the charred corpses.

Craters were adorning the ground.  
Some with a range of hardly more than centimeters, others large enough to devour entire cities.

And again, in between, the whimper and the screaming of reams of injured and hurt soldiers.

Yes, this battle had demanded many victims. And while cruel silence covered the former village, the noise was carried back in the mourning wind from the fields outside. The battle wasn't over yet. And it was being continued only a few miles away with unbroken strength and brutality. A solid wall of white clone soldiers stood against never ending oceans of battle droids. The noise was deafening.

Thrown grenades caused an unbearable, penetrating tingle in the ear of the human warriors, popping blaster bolts sealed fates and doomed the dying forces while screams of shot soldiers tore one's heart apart and the hollow rumble of collapsing buildings played the drums in the background. Smoke and ash blurred visions, forced lungs to protest, and the eyes of the ones not wearing helmets to burn.  
They weren't many.

One of them was fighting right in the very first row, stuck in the thick of the battle. Right in the carnage, in the slaughter of dark. Without armor, without shields or protection. But that wasn't necessary, either.

Blue fire coruscated and burned it's way unerringly, unwaveringly with deadly precision through durasteel and the mechanic brains of the droids which dared to cross his way.

Always on the move, the blue blade twitched from one side to the other, effectually blocking shots and severing robotic limbs. Wielded with masterly perfection it described circles, reflected bolts and therefore provided the missing shield, for it's carrier as well as for the men following him.

The carrier himself leaped and somersaulted, continually moving with a speed and athletic acrobatic which was usually supposed to be impossible for a human being. Unnatural effortlessness made him look like an ancient force ghost, a long deceased hero of a time long ago. The incredibly fast reactions he showed allowed him to move undisturbed through the rows of the enemy and rescued him from the grenades thrown in his direction.

Obi-Wan Kenobi moved his hand and a whole droid company was buried beneath wreckage and stones which he had thrown without having ever touched them. He didn't _need_ to touch it, though.  
The force guided his body for him like it had guided the ruins to their aim.

And while his body was still moving, his thoughts were already spinning tactical plans and strategies which he made sure would immediately become reality. He discovered injured men and sent them medics, mourned the lost and wondered in another corner of his quick mind, were by all the stars in the galaxy his Padawan, friend and brother was. While his quick thinking had often rescued him from hopeless misadventures and situations and brought him the galaxy wide fame he detested so much, it was not of much help at the moment.

The Jedi-Master had a _bad_ feeling about this.

Breathing fast but not erratically, he deactivated his lightsaber. This battle was over. They had made it. For today. He was quite sure, the Seps hadn't surrendered and given up on the cold planet yet, despite their temporary retreat.

Thank the force that at least most of the civilians were evacuated and safe.

One of the eight moons of the Formith-system had been newly inhabited and served now as a temporary shelter for the humanoid former inhabitants and now refugees of the planet.

Just, _where _remained Anakin? What took him so long? He closed his eyes and tried to locate his force signature through the unusual strong bond connecting their minds. No success. He could feel him, but not find him. There were to much disturbances in the force. Reminders of the blood-stained slaughter which had taken place here during the last few weeks.

Slowly an unnerving uneasiness rose within his chest.

But nevertheless he couldn't prevent an odd euphoria settling itself inside him. It wasn't over yet, they hadn't won yet. But these dispersed small groups of droids left wouldn't be much of a difficulty for them. And they had managed to take _most_ of the civilians into security just in time. And that made up for a lot for it was such a seldom luck they had been allowed to experience that. Although his troops had had to suffer heavy losses, they had eventually overrun the enemies forces and taken back the planet with relatively few problems. And they had captured _Nute Gunray_. Finally. Now he could be brought to justice. And he would have to stand up for a lot of crimes.

Obi-Wan allowed himself this little illusion. He didn't trust the courts enough to actually hope. Not anymore. They had called the slimy murderer innocent before and would do it again. But nevertheless it brought comfort to know that one of the enemy's leaders had to languish in a cell. At least for a while.

He allowed himself a brief grin. Because he was all but sure that, back on Coruscant, Anakin would be honored and promoted with Knighthood for this achievement.

Oh yes, it was long overdue. He had earned it. The Master was quite proud of his apprentice.

"General?" The voice of his second-in commander sounded synthetically biased through the micros of the helmet, and he jumped a bit, thrown out of his thoughts so suddenly. He shifted a little to face him.  
"General, the area's clear. The droids seem to have surrendered, at least for the time being. I suggest that we-", he halted for a moment. "Sir, you are injured." He seemed concerned.

The Jedi lowered his gaze and looked down his tunics. It didn't take him long to see the spot. Right above his belt the cloth was soaked by warm, sticky liquid, painting crimson patterns on the charred linen.

Yes, now that he'd realized it, it also started hurting unpleasantly. He sighed.

Great. Really great. Not just that he was injured _again_, no, it had to have been a blaster. Shot. Again. It wasn't just painful but also _embarrassing_. Shot. He. A master of Soresu. How embarrassing, indeed.

He'd once explained teasingly to Anakin that there was nothing more embarrassing for a Jedi-Master than to get shot by a blaster. Especially for a Master of the lightsaber form Soresu.

This mostly defensive directed technique was specialized on defending and especially on surviving a blaster engagement. He sighed again. Hopefully it wouldn't be necessary to tell Anakin about it. His overprotective Padawan was always astoundingly – and annoyingly - fast in catching rumors about a certain injured Master, but he still could hope that he would never learn of it.

He dived deep into the force to trick his body and suppress the threatening nausea and fatigue.

"Nothing serious, Cody" _At least I hope that _"What were you saying?"

"Erm... I suggest, we follow the Seps' example and retreat also, but just far enough to ensure that we can defend our position. Then we should check our canons and position them new, meet at a rendezvous point and use the government building as a new operation head quarter."

"Ah... yes, give the orders and make sure to install a protected infirmary for the injured troopers. I think two miles behind the current front should be enough and please acquire me a list with all the men we've lost today." He ran a hand through the auburn strands.

"Yes, Sir!", the answer was as old as the principle of the chain of command itself, but still sounded firm and unwavering, showing the soldier's determination, loyalty and braveness.

"Erm...Sir?"

"Cody? Anything else?"

"Well, as we were speaking of hurt warriors... I just wondered-" The clone knew his general well enough to know that he was moving on _very_ thin ice now. The Jedi always put his own needs at the very end and insisted on treating every other first. He was incredibly stubborn in this aspect, possessed a high pain threshold and the unnerving habit of simply ignoring orders given by medics.

As expected, he didn't even wait for him to finish his sentence.

"There are more than enough soldiers with severe injuries, Cody, enough that there is _no chance_ to drag me into that infirmary this time. No chance. So don't bother to argue. Or try literally."

Crap, his side _really_ started stinging now.

_Never mind, Kenobi! Concentrate on the important things now! Focus!_

Just _what_ in the force's name was the kriffing boy doing and where, he was needed here! It was his _duty_ to assist him on the tactical meetings. Not to mention the creeping worries he felt tighten his chest.

"Commander, does anyone now, where Anakin hides? Rex maybe? He doesn't answer his Com."  
Not that _that_ for itself was anything unusual. It wasn't even particularly alarming. These gadgets had a being-crushed-in-battle-quote of ninety percent or more. They often broke down after just one hit of a rock or something. Faults were kind of inevitable.

Perturbing now was, however, that he had completely lost him. He couldn't _feel_ him anymore although the bond was fortunately still in tact. Damn, _what was going on there?_

"No, sir. But General Tachi reports success at the western front. We do not know about Skywalker though. No sign of him. The last one who saw him and the remaining part of his troops was a pilot near the eastern tower. Probably - Sir, are you alright? Sir!"

But Kenobi wasn't listening any more. His consciousness struggled hard and fought a desperate battle against the pictures the force sent to him. He lost.

_A scream. His scream. Rain. Even more pouring rain. Heavy rain drops, soaking through battered cloth. A gray platform. A stage. A stage of death. On a shallow roof. Anakin. On his knees in front of a tall, black frame, hovering over him. A shadow of doom. The foul breath of death tainting the smell in the air. There. A blaster. Sparkling in the blue light of dawn. The blaster. Pointed on his brothers chest. A lightsaber, out of reach. Useless and cold in the rain. Dizziness. Fear._

_He reaches out, knows, he is much too slow and desperately calls for help to the force. Uses it to freeze the time – and it flows through his fingers, trickling from his grasp like the water from his fingertips. Another scream. An unbelieving yell in the force. No, not now. It can't let him down! Not now, when he needs it the most! But it is no longer touchable, it leaves him like it has in his years as a Padawan on that force-damned planet Melida/Daan. He tries again, tries, tries so hard. It still refuses to obey him, to help him-_

_Then a shot echoing through the dark. Just one. And the dark frame vanishes slowly into the shadows. Anakin falls forwards._

_Disbelief. Horror. Pain. Agony. Excruciating agony as the bond that connects them both, connects their souls and hearts and minds is ripped with impossible violence. Agony devouring him from inside. Burning his torn heart. Desperation. Sorrow. Grief. Disbelief. Pain._

_No! No, it's not possible! NO!_

_And the ironclad murderer disappears completely._

Obi-Wan's knees connected hard with the floor when his legs gave out. He involuntarily bent forward and choked violently. Puked bile and the vitamin pills which were currently their only food.

He heard Cody, felt him crouching beside him. Heard him calling his name and then for a medic like from a far distance. Felt him grabbing his arm trying to steady his swaying frame, but nothing of it mattered now. Nothing was real. What was real?

The vision was. Anakin. _Anakin! _He had to rescue him, it couldn't happen. He _mustn't_ let that happen. His heart was throbbing hard against his ribs, ticking like a clock. It hadn't happened yet, the bond was still whole. But for how long? Would he be fast enough? Was there enough time left?

It had to be enough, it just _had to_. He pushed himself onto his feet, had to choke again and swayed dangerously as sparkling light exploded in his vision. His head. His head throbbed agonizingly. It felt as if somebody had bashed on it with a heavy hammer and then filled the cracked skull with lava, the blood flowed through his veins like goo. But he _couldn't care less_ now. He had to stand, had to hurry up. The force screamed in his mind, the bond burned and prickled, ripping and tearing on old, long buried memories. Memories. Qui-Gon. His Master dead in his arms. Wet tears on his cheeks. No! _No!_ Not again! Never again! Anakin, Anakin was in danger. Hurt, maybe, but it didn't matter. He wasn't dead yet. He still lived. That was important now and only that. He was still alive and so he would remain! He was going to rescue him, like Anakin had done it on many, many occasions. And the young man would retain his wide grin and remain the impudent brat who showed off with his newest near-dead experience. How close he was, the Hero With No Fear...

He tore himself loose from Cody's grip, turned around and ran. His body completely exposed to the force, one with the force, he ran. Leaped over entire buildings and _ran_. Faster than ever before. Determination and adrenalin pushed him forward, further and further, faster and faster. He felt Cody and a small group of rather shocked troopers behind him, felt their horror and insecurities, their fear for their general, but he didn't care. They'd stop him and force him to the medics and he would get sedated and would never get a chance to- but it _didn't matter now_.

Because he was faster than they all. Because he ran aided by the force.

Unstoppable now. Out of reach. And deadly in his desperation.

His sense of direction was more than disastrous, even if he had known where to run, but the force lead him impeccable and inerrant through the ash and dust of the charred ruins around him.

He wouldn't be late, he _mustn't_ be late.

And he wasn't.

Close, though. He was able to feel Anakin clearly in front of him, now. There, right there. Just a few more meters. Soon, soon. He slipped around a corner and- froze.

A picture materialized itself. A picture, never to forget, never to be defeated. A picture that would haunt him in his dreams, turn his life to a nightmare, again and again and forever.

A familiar picture - the picture of his vision.

His Padawan knelt stunned in front of an heavy armed frame. An armor and helmet covered the face. Androgynous and anonymous. It wasn't even clear if the frame belonged to a male or female.

But one thing was as clear as the lakes of Naboo.

It belonged to a killer. The posture alone spoke of a cold blooded assassin. And how used the humanoid already was to it. And now Anakin, his Padawan, his _brother _crouched right in front of him, defenseless, completely exposed and at his mercy. Half passed out he stared with dull eyes up to the creature, hovering above.

He didn't hesitate.

Obi-Wan saw him, saw him stirring his finger towards the trigger and did the only thing he could do.

He dived into the force. His will had never been more clear, his determination never stronger.

He let the force take over and manipulate time and space as every movement, even the ceaseless fall of the rain drops was slowed down. Every noise, every whisper was amortized, remaining within doomed reality whereas the Jedi-Master vanished from it.

Obi-Wan reached out and sent an powerful force-push towards Anakin, slicing through the now for him viscous, blurred time. He knew the blur wouldn't affect his attack. In front of his inner eye he could already see the fall of the assassin, could calculate the arc the limp body was going to describe and felt Anakin already safe behind him, but-

The force _betrayed_ him. Like in his vision. It floated through his fingers, trickled on the floor. Abandoned him when it was needed the most... threw him back into reality and denied him the rescuing push. And when the shot impacted, the reality finally locked back into place and with it returned the noise, the speed and – the death.

He heard himself yelling. A desperate rebellion, burning in his lungs, ripping on his vocal cords until they went sore. He didn't feel any of it.

He couldn't recall how he got to the boy, later, nor did he remember the sudden disappearance of the assassin as soon as he had recognized him. It didn't bother him, either.

Anakin toppled over into his arms. He tilted his head to be able to look into his ocean-blue eyes.

Blood was leaking from the gash in his chest, fast, much too fast and over his hands and forearms which he held pressed against the young Jedi's body in an desperate attempt to stop the river of flowing crimson.  
It didn't took much to realize that the wound was mortal. Anakin vomited blood. He fixed his gaze and held it firmly, unable to speak, but acknowledging his presence.

The force signature blurred, faded, became weaker and weaker...and with it his entire presence.

Clones were approaching, unnoticed by the dying pair. One passing in body and one in mind.

"Anakin... Anakin, hold on... It's going be alright, stay with me brother... breathe, please, just keep breathing..."

The sprawled body twisted in pain. He gasped, longing for oxygen and coughed blood. Obi-Wan cupped a pale cheek with a blood-stained, shaking hand. The tears, running over his face mixed themselves up with the rain, almost invisible.

The Jedi-Master didn't notice.

The boy moved his lips, but no sound escaped them. He remained mute.

And breathed in. And out. Obi-Wans heightened senses could perceive Anakin's heart throbbing unsteadily.

Another beat... and another...Bumm-Bum…Bumm-Bum…Bumm-Bum…Bum-

And the heart froze.

A minute passed in dead silence. And another.

Obi-Wan threw his head back and let out a long, hoarse, agonized scream.

Hot tears were trickling down his cheeks into the auburn beard. He crouched over the Padawan's body, shaking violently in his soaked tunics, clutching the body close to his and slowly rocking back and forward, his face buried in the crook of a cold neck.

Pain. Desperation. Disbelief. Relentless agony.

His heart refused to acknowledge what his mind had not yet understood.

And then the bond cracked.

Obi-Wan had had no idea that it was even possible to feel so much pain. And it wasn't, either. He didn't want it to be.

A freezing paralysis brought ease along and Kenobi dived deep into the fog, gratefully accepting the numbness. Then it was over. Nothing left to feel.

The pain was gone. As well as the grief and the sorrow and the refusal to believe what the blood-soaked body in front of him was the evidence of. His hands didn't tremble when he gently closed the cold eyes of the young Jedi and his spirit vanished into the darkness and desired for the mercy of forgetting. He didn't notice the strong, armored hands and their unavailing try to ease the limp body out of his clutching grip. The firmness of his grasp only increased.

He wouldn't remember how long he had been kneeling there, forehead to forehead, like after his Master's death so many years ago.

He wouldn't remember Cody either, who had finally managed to haul him up and away from the body and was guiding him gently away from the stage of doom now.

Nor would he be able to recall their way to the fighter who was about to set off for the "Negotiator", their flagship, Cody supporting him on one side, a nameless medic on the other.

He moved through an odd foggy world, in a shape which was contorting reality. The only thing he heard was the steady patter of the rain, sedating him and allowing him to get rid of any thoughts, he might have. He moved like a ghost, a body without spirit. An empty shell, only sheltering the miserable remainders of a broken, shuttered soul.

He would have no memories of the medic, treating his wounds, Cody, again trying to reach him through the heavy shields he had slammed shut. He was feeling the shock of the clone over the condition of his general and the sorrow over the death of a hero, but his brain refused to decode the message to something understandable.

What he remembered was Siri Tachi, collecting him and taking him out of the responsibility of his rather clueless commander and friend and guiding him back onto the ship.

He felt the hot water running down his sinewy neck, the steaming flowing and the softness of her hands when she washed the blood of his skin. He noticed the embrace she granted him, the kiss, but nothing of it could wake him up. He heard comforting words, whispered into his ears, but failed to understand them.

She stayed overnight, guarding his sleeping form, sprawled out over the hard mattress in his chambers on board of the flagship of their forces. On board of his flagship. He was lying in her arms when the first nightmare haunted him in his sleep.

Again and again he was forced to experience the shot, the moment, when time had been frozen, listen to the dying breath of his friend and hear his own scream echoing in his ears. He was yelling when she managed to wake him up, eventually.

Siri assigned him to a ship on its way to deliver medical supplies and reinforcement groups to the core and he was brought back to the Jedi-Temple the next day.

All of that remained unnoticed by the legendary Jedi-Master.

Weeks would pass until he would response to the healer's counseling on Coruscant.

Months until he awakened from the numbness which was only interrupted by vivid nightmares.

Then he had to face and bear the relentless pain in it's full strength.


End file.
